That Counts
by Babatomyfriends
Summary: Yet another missing piece from my first fic 'Still on London Time in New York' (and probably not the last either). Because somehow I was not done with that first time Mondler are doing it in New York. Not sure if I'm done now, but here it is, canon as usual, with all the smut you could want, and I hope you have fun reading it. Please let me know if you do.


Monica felt like she couldn't stop smiling ever again. As if she had slept with a hanger in her mouth like Rachel had put it such a long, long time ago. Except this time it felt even more intense. More – special. Miraculous even. And still so strange.

Languidly she rolled on her side and got up on one elbow to look at Chandler who lay close beside her on his back. His hair was still madly tousled from her fingers running through it and clutching it during their wild love play just minutes earlier and there was a faint sheen of sweat on his neck where it met his shoulders and on his breastbone between his clavicles. No wonder too considering how insanely he had pounded into her just now, how ardently and insatiably they had kept at it until they both had almost passed out from exhaustion. Their breath rates had slowed to normal by now, but she still felt as hot and sweaty as he looked. And so wet. His eyes were closed, but opened again when he sensed her movements, his smile readily answering hers as their gazes met.

"Hey." My god, the muscles in her cheeks were starting to hurt from that smile by now. Chandler's own smile broadened while his eyes crinkled. "Hey."

For a short moment Monica felt that horrible awkwardness looming over her again, but pushed it away determinedly. No, not that again. There was absolutely no need for that. All of this, everything they had done felt so – so right, not weird at all, and it needed to be acknowledged and treated as such.

"Listen, I – I don't know about you, but that was … amazing."

"Oh yeah? Really?" Chandler immediately perked up, grinning madly, exactly like she had known he would. But that was okay, he was probably feeling the awkwardness even more keenly. And she was grinning like a loon herself, already resigned to the fact that she would have sore face muscles the next day.

"Yeah. It really was." She put her hand on his chest and absentmindedly started to play with his chest hair, avoiding his eyes when she felt herself blush. Then Chandler put his hand over hers, entwining their fingers.

"For me too." For once his voice sounded quite serious, a little husky and quite unlike the light clear cut tone he used for his usual snide comments. It was almost unnerving.

"I'm glad we did this," she blurted and then blushed even more. "I mean – that we did it again … here. In New York."

"Breaking the rule. Yeah. Me too." Chandler sighed contentedly. "It's a stupid rule anyway. Probably a health hazard too."

"How so?"

"If my being on London time hadn't counted, I would still be taking cold showers right now." He grinned wryly. "Really long cold showers."

"Oh my. You're right, it's a stupid rule. I can't even remember why it was set up."

He looked at her quizzically. "I think to make sure that something like that We-Were-On-A-Break-Thing would never happen again – but you know what, come to think of it, I can't remember either. I mean it's not like – um, like –"

"Like what? No it's okay, I know what you mean." And she did, she knew exactly what he had been going to say.

Like we are a couple.

Well okay. Of course they weren't. A few times of sex, really amazing, mind-blowing, wonderfully satisfying sex didn't mean that they were a couple already. Or even lovers. So far it was just an extended one night stand or rather two one night stands. Which they'd had because they had both been too horny and desperate to resist the temptation – yes, desperate, at least she had been. Desperate with frustration, bitterness, exasperation and hopeless longing. All those mad shenanigans with Chandler in London, first that completely unexpected glorious one night stand and then that crazy hunt to find a quiet place for a repeat performance had been so much fun, and, even more important, had made her forget all her troubles and woes. And then, after they had gotten back to New York, back to her familiar apartment, her friends, to resume her old life, get back into the old trot, all of that had suddenly seemed so … bleak. So dreary. As soon as the door had closed behind Chandler after their last hug and high-five, the walls had seemed to close in on her, shutting her in and locking a future of endless frustrations and disappointments in place. In her anguish she had even started towards the door to get him back, but stopped again, her teeth grinding and her fingernails digging into her palms as her hands clenched. No, still not quite desperate enough. Because that would have meant that she had to face him while explaining that she had changed her mind, thereby admitting her weakness and practically begging him for sex – yes, she, Monica, begging her goofy, sarcastic friend and neighbor for sex. At least in London she had been drunk, and frustrated, and mad at her mother and everyone else, and horny too, yeah, especially that. Here in New York she had been all those things except drunk, and that, and the fact that she would have to face him in the hallway between their apartments or even his kitchen, with Joey somewhere near, had just been too much, an insurmountable obstacle for her pride she just couldn't get over.

Or maybe she would have, at some point later on, if he hadn't returned on his own. If the regrets and the memories would have proven too strong. And maybe he would have felt the same way a bit later and the two of them would have met or even collided in the hallway. Or in his kitchen, depending on who would have been faster and more determined. Of course she liked to think that it would have been her, but he could be pretty spontaneous and determined too given the necessary motivation. But he had saved her all that anguish and torture by coming back so quickly with that wonderfully silly and yet genius argument of his for which he deserved her eternal gratefulness. For that and also for not once making fun of her when she had thrown all doubts and caution to the wind and rushed into his arms so enthusiastically. 'Ooh that counts!' And it still did for her. No matter how long this strange new thing between them would last, it counted for something. She was quite sure of that.

Now he too rolled on his side to face her, his expression still unaccustomedly serious.

"In fact I – well, now that we have done it I can't believe that we didn't do this much sooner."

She frowned at him. "What?"

"Well, apart from the fact that you weren't attracted to me, it's almost obvious. We're both single and at loose ends, treading in place … This way we could at least have enjoyed a great sex life." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Don't you agree?"

She wanted to retort with a cutting remark, to almost spit at him that he was wrong, there had been absolutely nothing so wrong with her sex life that would have made her turn to her goofy neighbor, thank you very much, but she found the words dying in her throat before she could utter them. Because somehow in some weird way he was right after all. Infuriatingly and annoyingly so, but right nonetheless. As much as she wanted to protest she only needed to remember all the things that had happened in the months – hell, the year, a whole year! – before London to get her to admit defeat. The Timothy disaster. The nightmare of her new job. Her defeat at the quiz contest that had forced her to switch apartments. Phoebe's mood swings. That time when she had put on Emily's wedding dress only to find herself unable to take it off again.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I hate to admit it, but I was starting to – well, go a little crazy." As soon as she'd said it, she wished she could take it back, wondering if he would use it to make fun of her, but when she darted a sharp look at him, he seemed only sympathetic and yes, very much relieved.

"Totally understandable."

"And you're so wrong."

"About what? I mean I'm pretty much always wrong, but –"

"What you said, that I was not attracted to you."

He gaped at her, speechless for once and she laughed.

"Oh, I always thought that you're attractive. Just not –"

"Not boyfriend material?"

"No! Not that again please. It's … I don't know … I always feel that you're too scared."

"Of you? I guess that's true."

"I was going to say, of commitment, but if you say so …"

"Well, you can be pretty scary." But he was twinkling when he said it.

"You better believe it, Mister!" she laughed. And suddenly the thought of the wedding dress game sparked off another memory that made her giggle and then laugh outright when he looked puzzled.

"What?"

"Oh god … do you remember the time you found all of us girls in wedding dresses?"

His mouth dropped open. "Oh my god! That was so scary! I was never so shocked in my life!"

She had to wipe tears from her eyes. "You looked it too. And then when you asked – oh god - if we had noticed yet that one of the grooms was already on the lam - -"

"Because I had met him on the stairs and he'd looked like he was running for dear life."

Great, now her nose started to close up too, and her sides were hurting from laughter. "That was Josh. Oh god, when you said that it made me wish we really had two more grooms locked away. Just … just the idea …" For a moment she thought she would start to hyperventilate too until a couple of deep breaths took care of it and she was relieved to find herself relaxing again.

"You know I never told you this, but … when I saw you like that I was afraid you would want me to take his place." That had her erupt into breathless giggles again and she covered her mouth with her hand in a futile attempt to stop before it tore her apart.

"Please, no more, I can't …" She lay on her back again and closed her eyes, then spurted the words out before he could get in yet another joke and make her kill herself with laughter.

"Okay, but when exactly should we have done it? I mean it wasn't as if you were single the whole time. You had Kathy –", when he winced she did too, scolding herself for mentioning her "- and then there was that girl from the sleep clinic …"

"The girl from – oh, Marjorie. Um. The disaster area."

"What?"

"Forget it. It didn't work out." When she frowned at him he winced again. "She talked in her sleep, okay? I didn't really mind at first, but then she started screaming too, and Joey threatened to throw her out because he couldn't sleep …"

"Oh god. What did you do?"

Chandler sighed. "I gave Joey my earplugs. It helped too, but then I couldn't sleep."

"Aw."

"Yeah. And in the morning she went on and on how great she had slept. And she wanted another date right away."

"Oh my g-"

"Yeah, and I couldn't think of any excuse. Fortunately Joey got up then and let out the birds and the duck chased her away." Chandler grinned broadly until she scuffed him. "Ouch! Yeah, I know, but in this one case I was really glad the duck didn't like her."

"But he doesn't like me either."

"What are you talking about? Of course he likes you."

"No, he doesn't. Last time I met him he tried to bite me."

"Because you took away his dish."

"It was dirty!"

Chandler sighed. "Okay, maybe I should have a little talk with him about his manners … But seriously, don't you see? The whole thing could have been avoided if we'd already been sleeping with each other … No?"

She frowned and shook her head. "Um, no, I don't think so. Okay, yeah, I admit it, I could have used a bit of sex then. I really missed out on that lately. What with my new job and Phoebe's pregnancy, and then the whole Emily thing … Yeah, maybe … but when exactly?"

"I dunno. There's no exact point in time. Just sometime much sooner."

She sighed. "Okay, but do you really think if we had done it sooner, things would have gone better for us?"

He shrugged. "At least we would have had sex."

"And that would have made how much of a difference?!"

He grinned. "Oh, a lot. We would have been soo much more relaxed about things."

"No. Well, maybe, but there would have been other problems."

"Such as?"

"Oh … about going on dates. And what the others would think."

"The others would never know about it if we kept it secret. Or do you think we should tell them?"

"God, no." The very thought almost made her shudder. "How can we tell them? And what would we tell them? Hey guys, guess what! Chandler and I are doing it, so what do you think about that?"

He chuckled. "I think it would shock Phoebe right into labor. And Ross would probably kill me."

Monica sighed. "If it didn't kill him first. I think he's had pretty much all he can take right now."

"Joey would probably approve …"

"He'd never be able to keep it to himself. Remember the jellyfish thing?"

"Ouch. Oh god. You're right, it would tear him apart."

"Yeah. And Rachel …"

"If she ever makes it back to New York …"

"Then we can't tell her either. She's a gossip. And she would never leave us alone."

"Right. So, to summarize, if we had done it sooner, we could never have told them, just like we can never tell them now."

She blinked, suddenly realizing that from the hypothetical past they'd come back to the present again. The very real, immediate present. Where they had done it, and not just once, but twice already, plus that hot making-out session on her couch to which they had stumbled after they had kissed so passionately in the kitchen, breathless and nearly blind and crazy with desire. By the time it had occurred to her befuddled mind that her bedroom had so much more to offer in terms of privacy and comfort she had been so dazed and shaken, she almost could not get up again, even to cover the short distance to her bed.

"So, I guess we're on our own with this." She sighed again. "Whatever this is."

"You make it sound like it was a bad thing."

"No!" She almost jerked upright in her protest. "I didn't mean that! It's great! Really, really great!"

"What? The sex or the secrecy? Ouch …" Catching her wrist as she tried to slap him, he looked up at her and smiled almost shyly, then he put a hand to her cheek. "I think it's great too. I'm glad we did it in London. It makes me even happier that we did it here. And if we do it again, I will be the happiest man on earth."

"Aw, that's sooo … um, you mean do it again right now?!"

Chandler opened his mouth and shut it again while he considered.

"Actually now means in another ten minutes or so – um, what are you do-, oh my god-!" When she bent over his middle, pushing his hands away, he let himself flop on his back again resignedly. "Um, I need to point out though, that as much as I like this, I'm afraid he's not quite done with his siesta-aahahaaar-"

"Aw, where's my little loverboy? Huh? Is wittle woverboy too tired? Cooody-coddie-coo!" At first she thought he would be indeed too exhausted for it to respond to her ministrations, but then she felt the tiniest twitch under her tongue and grinned in triumph.

"– um, that is … whoa! Looks like someone can't sleep …!"

Monica straightened again and yelped indignantly when he tickled the sole of her foot.

"Hey! Is that the thanks I get?"

When he grinned broadly and reached for her, she stretched out on top of him, sighing in deep content when he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. His skin still felt warm and slightly sticky against hers, just as her own skin on her back still felt moist under his hands. Then their lips met, hesitantly at first and then with growing ardor while she let herself relax on top of him, her breasts crushing against his chest, her legs parting as if by themselves until her pelvis rested upon his abdomen and it felt as if it was widening, opening up and spreading out like a flower, making her ache for him again. When he slid his hands lower to cup her hips, his fingertips gently feeling their way into her crack towards her entrance while his tongue wrapped around hers sinuously she nearly forgot how to breathe. Before long she almost couldn't bear it any longer and frantically began to rub herself on his almost erect penis over his half-hearted protests, taking him inside her when he was finally ready and settling on him with her head thrown back and eyes tightly shut in intense concentration. When she began to ride him, he lay still at first, then started to thrust upwards into her in return, answering her every move, until he heaved himself up towards the finish with a groan and pulled her towards him, holding her tight as they started to rock to and fro.

So they really were doing it again. And it wouldn't be the last time. She would see to it that they would keep doing it. Because really, how could they give up something as good – as great really - as this?

London had been unbelievable already. Seven times, she had come seven incredible times when three or four would already have been pretty amazing. Five times was exceptional, six times unheard of, but seven … seven was the best, the peak, the Mount Everest of orgasms, never to be achieved again. Or so she had thought when once the inevitable awkwardness and scruples that kept haunting them had been put aside in favor of one more attempt to capture the magic again, they had had to come to terms with the fact that it was just impossible to find a place to go for it once more. Her room, Chandler's room, even the honeymoon suite and finally the bathroom on the plane. After Chandler had failed to join her there due to Joey's interference, she had given up. It was just no use, clearly not meant to happen. As Chandler had put it earlier, not doing it again somehow made that one night more special. And anyway, how could a few stolen minutes of breathless greedy fumbling and humping in some tight hiding place or other, with the constant threat of getting caught hanging over them ever even come close to that amazing night in Chandler's hotel bed? Not a chance. That one night in London would forever remain incomparable, in a league all of its own.

Or so she had thought up until the moment he strode into her kitchen with his watch still on London time. After that all bets were off again.

And it had been so good. So magical too – a different magic, but just as unbelievable and amazing. Of course this time there had been no need for any persuasion and reassurance so they could cut to the chase right away, as soon as she'd uttered the confirming "Oooh, that counts!" and he'd swept her into his arms. And she loved that they'd done it for the first time in New York in her bedroom, after that interlude on her couch. Her bedroom which Phoebe had wisely left alone during her stay in her apartment and where she felt so safe and at home that she always tried to have the first time with a new lover there. True, it wasn't exactly the first time, but it felt enough like it to make no difference. Their first time in New York, the act that proved that the magic was not limited to London or any foreign romantic country, but could be extended and brought over into their day-to-day life, and that thought had been so deeply exciting. She still couldn't get over how it had gone down. As soon as they had made it through the door she had hurried to the window to lower the blinds while he shut the door and turned the key for good measure. Then they had met at the foot of her bed, staring at each other for a moment in something like disbelief, as if they both still could not quite grasp that it was actually happening again. Chandler even seemed a little awed to find himself there, in the private space she usually tried to keep strictly off limits, and he half naked too, his jacket, shoes, shirt and pants long since shed along the way. She was still in her dress, but with the straps pushed from her shoulders and her hair freed from the scrunchie. When she saw him swallow and take a deep breath she held out her arms to him, breaking the spell. He pulled her close and immediately started to fumble urgently for the zipper of her dress while they kissed greedily. When the zipper finally opened he tugged her dress away from her until it slid down, leaving her in her panties and sandals and nothing else after she'd stepped out of it, letting it crumple on the floor. That and the fact that it was still lying there while she couldn't even bring herself to care was a miracle in itself, but she was just too caught up in the moment to worry about crinkles. Instead she tore at his t-shirt until he let her pull it over his head and drop it to join her dress on the floor. When they pressed close again she felt him swelling and hardening against her belly through the fabric of his boxers and it made her swoon with desire. Then Chandler suddenly went down on her, kissing his way down her chest and belly while he got on his knees before her and let his hands roam over her hips and the back of her legs. It took her by surprise and for a moment she teetered on her heels until she caught hold of his shoulders, clenching her hands in his hair when he pressed his face into her lap. She only realized that he was trying to tug down her thong with his teeth when his breath tickled her labia and the elastic scraped over her buttocks. Then it had already dropped to her knees and he was pressing his mouth into her vulva, sucking and licking while she was bent over his back, legs spread, screaming and moaning while her hands clawed his back in her throes. Somehow he managed to steer her towards the bed and when she came up against it at her back she let herself drop on it, panting and shaking. He crawled after her as she scooted further up, catching hold of her legs one after the other to kiss and stroke them while he removed the sandals and flung them over his shoulders. Supporting herself on her elbows she had stared at him as he came to crouch before her and gently urged her legs even further apart. But before he could go down on her again, she let herself slide under him, hooking her legs over his shoulders and wrapping her arms around him, urgently pushing his boxers over his hips and buttocks. When his penis sprang free, warm and swollen, she closed her hand around it, reveling in its feel as it twitched and quivered in her grasp. With her other hand she clutched his buttocks as she tried to pull him close, over and against her, the feel of his smooth soft skin there driving her crazy. Panting and groaning Chandler tried to hold himself up over her on his knees and elbows while she guided his penis to her vulva and started to stroke the tip across it, up and down, from her clit to her entrance and back, slowly letting it slide deeper into her with every stroke. At last he lowered himself on her as she let go and lay back, cradling him between her legs and clenching her hands in his back and shoulders while he slowly slid into her, making every inch count.

And count it did, everything that happened between them on that long, hot, sweaty afternoon behind the closed door in her bedroom, alone and with all the time they needed, undisturbed by their friends who for once were not intruding into what started to feel like a crucial moment in their lives. She could not be sure yet what would grow from it, what shape it would take and how important it would become. All she could tell already now was that whatever it was had left the realm of a mere fling. This was not some kind of throwaway sex any more, to be enjoyed and forgotten after the need had been sated. For one thing, it just worked too well for both of them to be labeled as a one night stand or even friends with benefits thing. Their bodies already seemed to have become attuned to each other, perfectly answering each of their respective needs over and over again. She could tell also that Chandler was already investing a lot more effort and care in his lovemaking than she would ever have expected from him. As much as she would have liked to take sole credit for that, she knew that her impromptu demonstration of the seven major erogenous zones of a woman had really just opened the door and pointed him in the right direction. And there was no way he would apply himself to it so ardently if all that effort didn't count for him in some way too.

The thought made her wonderfully, wondrously, incredibly happy. And for the umpteenth time unbelievable glad that it had been Chandler who had been there for her that night in London and not Joey. Now the very thought of what she would have missed if it hadn't been for a British bridesmaid made her shudder. And fervently wish that nobody, least of all Chandler, would ever find out that she had even considered it.

So what would eventually come from that magical night and this magical afternoon? From all that wonderful sex? She was pretty sure now that it would at least lead to more sex, whenever they could manage. It was just too good to sacrifice it for the sake of stupid rules or the possible loss of a friendship. Yes, their friendship had been important to both of them, still was at least for her. But she also felt that it had proved to be quite – flexible in this regard. Flexible and sturdy enough to absorb this added feature. While it was still possible that this could go wrong somehow and end in tears and anguish, she still thought there was a good chance that it would not. After all they were not Ross and Rachel. If it did go wrong at some point they would deal with it like adults, on their own, without dragging their friends into it. She was quite sure they were both capable of that.

When they were both finally done, completely out of breath and dripping with sweat, Chandler let her go and flopped on his back, arms and legs spread wide. She lay down beside him and put her head tentatively on his arm, feeling a thrill go through her when he lazily drew her closer, cupping her head with his hand and brushing his lips over her hair.

"Ummm … oh wow … oh god, woman, you really did me in now. I can't move a thing. I think I'm going to stay like this for the next ten hours. Argh. Twenty hours."

"Aw. I'm so so – not sorry." She laughed when he groaned exaggeratingly and nestled closer to him, delighting in the way it felt to have someone lying close to her, a warm living breathing body next to hers. It had been too long. Way, way too long.

"But its okay. I'm pretty done in too. We should rest a bit."

"Mmmh. What time is it?"

She craned her head to look at her alarm clock on the night table. "London time or New York?"

He grinned, his eyes already shut tightly. "London. Mmmh … definitely London."

She let her head sink back on his arm again, closing her eyes too.

"Then we still have London time. All the London time we need."


End file.
